Sweet Sacrifice
by Jocelyn Ralph
Summary: "It was the moment when my hammer met, with a resounding crack, the back of her skull that I felt the direction of my life change. It was the first life I took outside of battle. My first murder. . ." - follows the Dark Brotherhood questline, rated M for good measure.
1. Chapter 1

_It's true, we're all a little insane.  
But it's so clear,  
Now that I'm unchained. _

It was the moment when my hammer met, with a resounding crack, the back of her skull that I felt the direction of my life change. It was the first life I took outside of battle. My first _murder._ That's not to say I had never desired to, of course, but that Orc was something special. . . and I was having a bad week, already.

Looking back, I can see now that this action was a long time coming. I suppose its fortunate things happened when they did; much might have gone very differently, in a bad way, for many people, otherwise.

The only thing I regret about killing "Sir" Mazoga, (even with the added bonus of doing it where there was no chance of witnesses) is falling out of favor with the Count of Leyawiin. The only consolation I have is the beautiful sound that resonated from the crack of the Orc's skull, like music in an amphitheater.

After cleaning myself up, I reported to the count (as I said, with an unfavorable response), and made my way into the city to rest at Three Sister's Inn. The sun was just setting, but I was more than ready to lay me to rest for the night; I had much to ponder, least of which was my very first murder. I opened the window in my room so I could feel the warm coastal breeze while I slept with the wind caressing my face.

I woke before the sun rose to find my room much colder than it should have been. A chill swept over me along with the sense that I was not alone. The weight on the bed shifted, dipping to the left, and the cold upon my face was chased away by the caress of something soft and warm upon my cheek.

My eyes shot open as my sleepy mind registered what my instinct already knew, and I was greeted by a pair of steely dark eyes set in a face shrouded by shadow. The weight shifted until the figure beside me was standing, and the cold air shifted like a sudden breeze.

I sat up, holding the bedsheets to my chest, and stared dumbly at the dark figure before me, an unspoken question apparent on my face, and wished I had a knife.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer," he said.

My mouth gaped open. How could he know about that?

"That's good," he added, turning slightly and shifting his weight. "You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose." He turned his head and through the shadows I could see a sly grin.

I frowned and closed my mouth, pursing my lips together. Whatever this was, I wasn't going to speak a word until I knew more. When it became apparent that I wasn't going to say anything, he continued. "You prefer silence, then?" he turned back toward me. I noticed then, with interest, that there was no sound to his movements. "As do I, my dear child. As do I."

_No kidding,_ I observed, watching him with as keen an interest as he was watching me.

"For is silence not the symphony of death, the orchestration of Sithis himself?"

My ears perked up, feeling somehow drawn to the named entity I had only heard of in rumor. Unconsciously, I leaned toward cloaked man. "Ironic, then, that I come to you now as Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood."

Yes, that was it. The name he had spoken, Sithis, was always associated with the feared assassins of the Brotherhood. My brows lifted in surprise. If the Dark Brotherhood had taken an interest in me. . .

"My name is Lucien Lachance, and my voice is the will of the Night Mother."

I shivered as something cold touched my spirit as he invoked her name.

He came closer so that his figure was silhouetted by the window. "She's been watching you," he continued, his tone implying that he was conveying very important information. I listened. "Observing as you kill, admiring as you end life without pity or remorse." A gloved hand reached down to grip my chin and lift my face. His hand was warm, in stark contrast the coldness of his presence. The strange effect was seductive, and I had to stop myself from leaning my face further into his palm. "The Night Mother is pleased. . ." his voice trailed.

What followed was an invitation to join that dark family; and almost as soon as the offering was made, he was gone, and I was left with more questions, an unused knife, and the name Lucien Lachance. He set the knife in my hand, closing m finger around it hilt with his own. With that, he disappeared, and when he was gone, I felt the wind blow again.

I sat in my room at the Inn of Ill Omen for quite some time after dispatching the old man, Rufio, in his bed. No one had even noticed that I'd gone down there. Not that I'd wanted them to, but I thought I'd have had at least a little trouble. There was even a Legion guard present, by the Nine! I grinned, and ran my thumb over the tip of the knife's blade.

It was getting dark out; I had traveled a long way to get there, and I could feel sleep tugging at me, beckoning me to lie on the soft, warm bed. I pushed the knife under my pillow and blew my candle out. I woke not soon after falling asleep, sensing the approach of another. One hand went to the knife, and the other held the blanket to my bare chest as I sat up.

The shadowed figure before me was expected, so I let the knife rest in my lap. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and yawned, waiting for him to speak.

"So, the deed is done."

I opened my mouth to respond, to ask how he knew, but there was no need.

"How do I know this?" he asked for me, and grinned. "You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things." He sat on the side of the bed. "For you are now part of the family."

I simply nodded, a slight smile growing on my face, an unexpected excitement growing in me. I was not sure what I should say in such a moment.

He took my left hand in his. "Now, heed these words," his shadowed eyes held mine firmly. I listened as he spoke, instructing me and giving me directions into the Sanctuary I would belong to; the Sanctuary he oversaw.

His hand squeezed mine and then released it, and he rose. "We must now take our leave of each other, you and I," he said, "for there is much work to be done." He backed away. "I'll be following. . ." his eyes slightly shifted from my face and then back, "your progress." He smiled slyly. "Welcome to the family." He turned to leave. "You are now one with the Dark Brotherhood."

I wanted to protest; I had so many questions. I grabbed my robe, hastily slipping it on and trying to follow him, but he had disappeared. I kept following anyway, for the hall was narrow. I bumped into something I couldn't see, and I heard Lucien sigh.

"Visit Ocheeva in Cheydinhal Sanctuary, and your new life will begin."

And that was that.


	2. Chapter 2

_This alone, you're in time for the show  
You're the one that I need  
I'm the one that you loathe _

I took slow, deep breaths as I made my way through the Sanctum. I was very confident in my ability to remain undetected, but that didn't lessen my anxiety. Coming back to this place, of all places. . .where it all began, with the Emperor.

Finally, after many nerve wracking minutes, I found myself back in the cell I had been kept in. I swallowed a lump. I hated this place, and I really had no idea why I had been locked up in the first place. Mostly likely a case of being in the wrong place and the wrong time. At any rate, it didn't matter now. I was here for my own reasons this time, and now that the hard part was over, I would get to have my fun.

I could hear the guard talking to him, and by Sithis, he sounded as insane as ever. I lurked in the shadows of the cell until the guard finally left. I came into the light, surveying the area, and saw some keys sitting on the guard's table. Didn't even need to pick the lock!

"You've got to get me out of here!" the Dark Elf begged as I turned to his cell.

I smiled and held up the key before I unlocked and opened the cell door.

"Wait, I know you. . .you. . ." he scratched his head. "You're the one! That day the Emperor was killed!"

My smile broadened.

"They went through your cell! You lucky bastard!"

My hand went to my hammer.

"But. . .you came back? Come on, you've got to help me out!"

I tilted my head as I pulled my hammer free from my shoulders. "Why should I?"

"You've got your freedom, now give me mine! What do you say, huh?"

I narrowed my eyes.

"Come on, friend."

And then I laughed. "I am not your friend." I bounced the weight of the hammer's head in my hand and looked him in the eye. "The Night Mother says 'Goodbye.'"

"The Nigh Mo. . .No! No! Guar. . ."

The hammer crashed into his chest, and I heard his ribcage snap as he flew back. "That was for before," I said, stepping into his cell. "And this is for the Night Mother." I swung, letting gravity do its work as the hammer head smashed his head in.

I didn't even bother to wipe his blood from my hammer. I wanted to savor his death. He had taunted me the entire time I was locked up. A person of less confidence might have called it "torment" but all it was was rude and annoying and hateful. I had seethed in my cell while he went on and on. . .

I sheathed my hammer and made my way to the door. There was no way I was going back the way I came – too long, too dark, and I didn't want to deal with giant rats and goblins. It was night out, so duty roster was light, which made sneaking past the guards fairly easy.

Once I slipped out of the city, I took the road to Cheydinhal for some rest and relaxation in the Sanctuary before my next contract. It was pretty late in the afternoon, but I knew I could make it there in a few hours, if I moved fast enough. Like a fool, though, I was in such a hurry that I didn't pay as much attention to my surroundings. It's really the only instance I can think of where I've been taken by surprise. I didn't even hear them coming, let alone see them.

Three figures jumped out at me, probably hiding behind bushes. I was hit with a paralyzing spell; I didn't see where it came from. Then they were on me, rifling through my things. I felt a sudden weight on my stomach and shifted my eyes to see one of them sitting on me.

"Well, ain't you a pretty one?" He reached out and pulled my hammer out, disarming me. "And the girl ain't bad, either," he laughed.

I bared my teeth at him and growled.

"Oho, and full of spirit!" he tossed my hammer to one of his companions, who caught it and stuffed it in a bag. "Shall we have a bit of fun with her, mates?"

"Sure, but only if you share her," one of them said.

"Of course," he replied magnanimously.

I snarled and jerked, the paralyzing spell beginning to wear off.

The man sitting on me slapped my face and laughed.

The man carrying the loot walked over and into my vision. "Well, we can't do this here, out in the open. Not unless we want to get caught by the Legion," he pointed out. He seemed to be the smartest one in the group.

"I think I saw an old fort northwest of Cheydinhal, a while back," the one sitting on me replied.

"Good, we'll head there. I'll keep the pretty thing paralyzed until we get there, but one of you will have to carry her."

The smart one grinned down at me and struck me with a spell, and once again, I lost the ability to move. I glared at all of them as the dumb one lifted me from the ground and tossed me over his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

_Fear is only in our minds  
but it's taking over all the time. _

It was dark and had begun to rain when we got to the fort, so the bandits decided to take refuge inside. After the first skeleton they ran into, they decided to stash me in a crate until they were sure they had cleared the area. I couldn't move, and I was trapped in a box.

I'm no Bosmer, but I share their intense dislike of small, enclosed spaces. It wasn't so bad at first; it never is. I always think I can handle it, the closed-in spaces. But I'd never been forced into so small a space before.

I lost track of time. Everything seemed to slow down, creeping by the millimeter. My legs were getting cramped, my neck was getting pinched. I barely had room to breathe, and the air was getting thinner. . .wasn't it? My breathe quickened. _I can't move. . .can't escape. The walls, are they moving? Getting smaller?_

I tried to push against them, flexing my leg muscles, but they still wouldn't move because of the spell. _Need to move. Need to move, need to . . .breathe. _I gasped, but the air would not come in. _Can't breathe! Can't move! _I choked. _It's too much. Or not enough. The walls. . .It's too small. Can't breathe, can't move. Sithis, help me. _I whimpered and then passed out.

I woke when I heard voices approaching, but only two instead of three. I could move my arms now, and I banged on the crate. "Let me out!" my voice called, shrill with panic and breathlessness.

I heard a laugh. "Looks like our little Imperial don't like being closed up!"

"Seems she don't. Let's let her out so we can, uh, cheer her up, eh?"

With the hope of being let out, my head began to clear a little. It sounded like the smart one hadn't returned with the others. They couldn't paralyze me again, at least. The wood creaked as the lid was pried off. A strong hand grabbed me by the hair and lifted me up out of the crate. I gasped in the fresh air.

I was dropped on the ground, and as I began to lift myself up, I received a kick to the stomach, and fell back down. "Don't make this difficult, woman," he said, reaching for his belt and unbuckling it.

I remained on the floor, then, just breathing. I still had my knife; I kept it in my boot. The idiots hadn't bothered to check for it. I got to my knees again and managed to grab it just as I was kicked in the stomach again.

"Didn't I tell you to stay down?" he barked. His trousers came down and he was on top of me. He flipped me over onto my back. With his knife he began to cut away my clothes. It was at this moment when I felt the air grow cold. In the back of my head, it felt familiar, but fear had a hard clamp on my mind, and I couldn't recognize what it meant. I had more pressing matters to deal with, so to speak.

While he was distracted, I thrust my own knife into his neck. Blood spurted out like a fountain over my face and chest, but I didn't even blink, for the look on his face was priceless. I grinned up at him as the life left his eyes, knowing that the last thing he saw was his own blood flowing into my grinning mouth.

I shoved his body away from me and slowly rose to stand on unsteady legs, ready to take on the second man, only to see him sinking to the ground with a different knife, not my own, protruding from his left eye.

I sank to the ground, confused, my head hurting as it recovered from the lack of air, my body aching from being cramped in the crate for Sithis knew how long. A form materialized beside me. "How did this happen?" a deep voice asked, and I lifted my face to see Lucien Lachance kneeling beside me.

"Speaker?" I asked, squinting in the darkness.

"It is I, dear one. Now tell me, how did this happen?"

I shrugged and rubbed my forehead. "Carelessness, on my part. . ." I breathed deeply. "Sheer, unexplainable good luck on theirs." I sighed and smiled wryly. "I think it best if we just leave it at that."

Lucien seemed to accept that answer, at least for the moment. "Can you stand?" he asked. I nodded, and he took my arm and pulled me to my feet. He started to lead me somewhere deeper into the tower, but I tugged on his sleeve.

"Please, take me outside."

He frowned. "It's raining."

"Better to be in open air with rain on my face than to be stuck under stone one moment longer," I said weakly, feeling the panic starting to rise again. The stone walls seemed to throb and swell closer to me, shrinking and closing in. "Please, Speaker," I tightened my grip on his sleeved insistently.

Lucien eyed me with concern and then nodded. "Very well. Follow me, then." He seemed to sense my urgency, for he led me quickly through the passages until we came to the fort's entrance. He held the door open for me and I was met by the relieving freshness that came from open air. I looked at Lucien and thanked him.

I stepped out into the drizzle, face lifted to the sky and took a deep, shuddering breath. Well, actually, I took a few of them. Sithis, it felt good. Questions arose in my head, one more pressing than the others. I turned back to Lucien. He had impeccable timing, which registered in my recovering mind as odd and more than a little convenient. "What are you doing here?" I asked, gesturing at the fort.

Lucien pulled his hood over his head. "I live here," he replied.

I nodded. I could tell he had questions of his own regarding my panicked behavior, but wasn't voicing them out of courtesy, for which I was grateful. Still, I believed I was calm enough now to explain. "I don't do well in small spaces," I tilted my head. "I can usually handle myself, but, uh, I've never anticipated being shoved into a crate for hours. . ."

I looked at the wet earth under my feet and took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of fresh air in my lungs. I was starting to feel light headed from the sudden rush of fresh air, and I swayed on my feet; but there was no way I was about to go and lean against the cold stone wall of the fort. I didn't want my panic to rise again when it had just died down. . .

Lucien's gloved hand slid under my arm, steadying me as I swayed. I couldn't help but note once again the peculiarity of the warmth of his body in contrast to the coldness surrounding him. Was it was some side effect of being a Speaker? "Perhaps you should sit down?" he suggested.

I really would have rather stood, but it was clear my head wasn't going to allow that. I nodded, and he helped lower me to the wet earth. He knelt beside me. "Child, what happened?"

After all this shameful fuss, I suppose my previous explanation wasn't enough. I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand and avoided making eye contact. "I wasn't paying the, uh, strictest of attention to my surroundings on the road to Cheydinhal. They got me by surprise, and before I could draw my hammer, I'd been hit with a paralyzing spell. Couldn't move." _It was horrible. . . _I shook myself. "But enough self pity," I said decisively. "I'm fine." I offered a small, and probably unconvincing smile. My head was clearing, and my panic was ebbing. I looked up at the cloudy sky. "A few more minutes, and I'll be good as new."

Lucien turned my face to him with a gloved hand, trying to determine the truth of my words. He nodded and stood. "When you're ready, you should return to the Sanctuary."

"I will," I said. "Thank you, Speaker, for your help."

"You would have managed without me," he pointed out, heading for the fort's door.

I smiled. "All the same." A few minutes after he'd retreated back inside, I decided to head off to the Sanctuary.


	4. Chapter 4

_But you really need to listen to me  
Because I'm telling you the truth  
I mean this, I'm okay!  
(Trust Me) _

"Did you have any difficultly getting in?" Vicente asked.

When I had gotten back, I slept for about sixteen hours, and as I sat down to eat, the vampire was the only one in the Sanctuary – all the others were off fulfilling contracts. He asked me how my mission went; he didn't know why, but when he'd given me the contract, he had discerned that the mission was personal to me. I guess I hadn't hidden well the fact that I knew the target.

I shook my head, popping a grape in my mouth. I laughed softly. "No, not at all. I remembered the way."

"You. . . remembered the way?" he asked, brows knitting together in confusion. "You've been in the Imperial Prison before?"

I nodded smugly, folding my arms across my chest.

"And you escaped through the sewers?"

I smiled. "Well," I said, drawing the word out. "I _did _have a _little_ help."

Vicente stared at me, bemused. "Sounds like a story I'd like to hear." He took a seat next to me and motioned for me to begin my story.

I sighed. "As you wish, dear brother."

Vicente smiled softly, the pale tips of his fangs peaking from behind his thin lips.

"I was in the Imperial City Prison." I held up my hand when I saw the question he was about to voice. "Before you ask me, I don't know why. Honestly. I'd always been a model citizen before joining the Dark Brotherhood. And anyway, it's not important. What _is _important is that my cell led to a secret passage out of the city. A passage only the Blades are supposed to know about. The day the Emperor died, he was led through my cell by his Blade body guards." I paused. "It's this same passage I used going back into the Prison for my contract."

"The Dreth contract. So you did know him, then?" he asked.

I shrugged. "In a way. He was in the cell across from mine. He'd yell insults at me, taunt me. I was in there for days with only him for company." I grinned. "If I'd had the chance, he probably would have been my first murder."

Vicente clicked his tongue. "A shame."

"Well, I still got to kill him," I said with satisfaction.

We sat in silence for a while, both us lost in our own thoughts, until Vicente looked at me again. "It sounds like it was a pretty smooth contract, then?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Smooth as a girl could wish. Why?" I glanced at him.

He pursed his lips, a slight look of concern in his ancient eyes. "You looked a little more than weary when you got back; and I've never known you to sleep more than eight hours." His laid his hand lightly on my arm. "Did something else happen that you haven't mentioned?"

I looked down at the table and pinched the bridge of my nose. I'd been hoping this wouldn't come up, but I couldn't hide it from him now that he was asking.

"Sister?" Vicente's touch became firmer, and when I looked up, I related the whole horrible ordeal. All the while, the vampire's eyes watched my face in silent sympathy. As I spun the tale, I couldn't help feeling a twinge of shame for having such an irrational fear as closed spaces. When I was finished, he gave my arm a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry," he said simply, for which I was grateful.

I didn't want to be coddled, and Vicente would never dream of it; that made telling him so much easier than it would have been telling the others. Talaendril and Antoinetta Marie were especially hard for me to talk to; aside from being cold-blooded killers, they were both so sweet and tender.

I shook myself back to the present, and offered Vicente a weak smile."Well, it's over now. I'm fine, and it won't happen ever again." I hated dwelling on things, especially weaknesses I will probably never get over.

Vicente nodded. "Of course it won't," he said. "You are a very capable woman, Amara. What happened yesterday was a fluke," he said, getting up from the table.

I smiled. "An untimely fluke." I sighed and looked down at my lap. "Thank you for listening."

"I'm always here to listen," he offered, giving me a half-mocking bow.

I grinned. "Generous of you. But, please, don't tell the others about what happened. I'd rather not be fussed over, especially by you-know-who."

"As you wish, dear sister." Vicente kissed the top of my head as he departed back to his own room. I left shortly after, taking a seat in the common room with a book, waiting for the others to return home.


	5. Chapter 5

_Never cared for what they do__  
__Never cared for what they know__  
__But I know_

I sauntered into the Sanctuary, feeling rather accomplished. While Vicente hadn't had any new contracts for me since Dreth, my conscience had dragged me away to fulfill an old man's last request - the Emperor's, to be exact – to find his bastard son and bring him to that priest Jauffre.

I'd gone all the way to Kvatch, only to find the entire city besieged by daedra and the city guard hard set in defending the refugees; and Martin had been one of those left within the city. There had been a gate to Oblivion between me and the city gate, and the only way through was to close the Oblivion gate. That had been a piece of cake, once I'd found my way through the tower on the other side of the gate and fought my way through various daedra.

After that it had been a simple matter of rescuing those in the city that were left, including Martin. With that finished, I brought him to Jauffre, and while there were complications (Mythic Dawn stole the Amulet), at least Martin was safe. We took Martin to up to Cloud Ruler Temple, which lay North of the city Bruma.

Now, Brother Martin, the last Septim, was safe and secure, for the moment, and after I took a few days to rest at the Temple, I bid Jauffre and Martin farewell for a time and made my way back to the Sanctuary with the hopes that Vicente had a contract for me.

What I was not expecting, as I sauntered into the living chambers, was to be greeted by the unsettling grin on Gogron's face, who was the only one up and about – everyone else was still waking up.

"So," he greeted with a knowing glint in his eyes which made me narrow mine. "The Hero of Kvatch graces us with her presence!"

I scowled at him, half serious and half in fun. Antoinetta Marie, taking a leisurely seat across from Gogron at the dining table, arched an eyebrow, her hair still mussed from sleep. She leaned her elbows on the tabletop. "What's this? Hero of Kvatch?" she asked, confused.

I slapped a hand to my forehead and sank onto an empty bed, muttering under my breath.

"Oh, you hadn't heard?" Telaendril asked, her mouth full of apple chunks, taking her place next to Gogron. "She rescued the whole city of Kvatch! Closed an Oblivion gate, all by herself, they say." She grinned at me.

Antoinetta Marie cast me a dubious glance, her mouth half-cocked in a smile. "Really?" she asked skeptically.

"Oh, yes," I confirmed with a sigh. I stood and went to the pantry, grabbing a piece of bread and pouring myself a glass of wine. I dipped a piece of bread in the wine to moisten it and took a bite. "Please don't make a big deal of it," I said, hoping my firm tone would put an end to this conversation. I was not in the mood for whatever patronizing remarks lay in wait if they were allowed to continue.

Thankfully, I was saved by Teinaava, who did not find the situation as humorous as my other siblings did. "Leave her be," he said wearily, apparently in no more of a mood for jest than I.

I mouthed a silent "thank you" to him, to which he nodded. I finished my piece of bread and swallowed the rest of the wine, and went out into the common room to find Vicente. He watched me enter the room, a slight smile growing on his face. "What were you doing at Kvatch?" he asked me as I approached, knowingly risking me ire, for he knew I'd been irritated already by the others.

But his smile was too disarming for me to be annoyed with him, and I knew that his question was more out of curiosity than of ridicule. I smiled wearily as I sat beside him. "I was fulfilling a promise," I said.

He quirked an elegant brow. "A promise?"

"A promise I made to a dead man," I said with such significance in my tone that Vicente simply nodded, understanding exactly who I meant.

"Ah," he cleared his throat, and left it at that. "I assume that you're back, then, for a contract?"

I nodded. "If you have one for me," I amended.

He set his book down on the small table between us. "I do indeed have one. This is a special contract," he said slowly, and smiled. "In truth, I don't wish to offer it to any other family member. I've come to rely on your abilities."

I fought the urge to preen, and merely smiled back. "Well, then, tell me more about it."

He shifted in his chair to angle his body more toward me as he spoke. "We're usually called upon to take a life," he started and I nodded; we were assassins, that was obvious, "but not this time. I tilted my head in curiosity. "This contract requires us to stage the assassination of a marked man."

I made a face. That sounded odd, but I could see why he was reluctant to offer this contract out. "Interesting," I contemplated, rubbing my hands on the pants I normally wore when travelling.

"Do you want this contract, then?" I nodded. "Then go to Chorrol and break into the house of Francois Motierre. Inside, you will find him waiting for you: do _not_ kill him." I nodded again. Vicente leaned back in his chair as he continued. "Francois Motierre is a marked man. He owes a considerable sum to the wrong kind of people," he waved his hand in disdain. "They have sent an enforcer to kill him."

"So I'm to fake his death so that his debtors leave him alone?" I asked with a snort.

"Exactly," Vicente confirmed, and then stood up abruptly. "Wait right here," he said. "I'll be right back," and then he disappeared down the corridor that lead to his room. A few minutes later, he returned and handed me a small silver dagger coated in a poison I did not recognize, and a bottle of what must have been the antidote. "Here," he said. "Use this knife to stage Motierre's death, in the enforcer's presence. Motierre himself will provide more details when you meet with him." I nodded once more. Vicente rested his cold hand on my shoulder. "This is an unusual contract. Motierre had to make a special arrangement with us before it was approved." In other words, don't mess it up. I grinned ruefully. He squeezed my shoulder. "I trust in your professionalism."

"Thank you, Vicente," I said, pleased. That was no small compliment. "Well, then, I suppose I'll go and get some rest before I head off to Chorrol," I said, standing and stretching.

Vicente nodded and picked up his book again. "Rest well, sister."

I turned about and went back down into the living quarters and tucked myself into a bed for a nap.


	6. Chapter 6

_I hate the ending myself,  
But it started with an alright scene. _

Having Nocturnal's Skeleton Key made breaking into Motierre's house incredibly easy; and the man was pacing the house, waiting. When he turned, I managed to turn my sneer into a smirk. "Hello, Motierre."

He gasped, and stumbled over words. "Oh! Well . . ." he cleared his throat. "Um, hello. You must be the one Lucien Lachance told me about." My ears perked up at the mention of the Speaker.

"Obviously," I replied dryly.

He chuckled nervously. "Yes. . . I've been expecting you." He glanced nervously behind me at the door. "We haven't got much time, I'm afraid." He wrung his hands, and began to ramble on about his debts. "They've sent an enforcer," he said, hushing his voice as he realized it had steadily been growing shrill during his tangent. "His name is Hides-His-Heart, and he's on his way here now!" he whined. "That's why I hired you! So you can fake my death!"

I nodded, my annoyance growing and my smirk fading back into a sneer I no longer wished to conceal. "By Sithis, just spit it out," I hissed.

He flinched. "Oh! Sorry!" he nodded quickly. "Please, I'm sorry. See, when Hides-His-Heart gets here, I'll put on a little act." I almost snickered. He wouldn't need to act, he was already scared shitless. "Then you cut me with the knife, and it looks like I die!"

I patted the knife strapped at my hip, wishing I could just really kill him; but no. That was not the contract. I sighed inwardly and nodded again.

"You must flee from Chorrol, and Hides-His-Heart must not be killed!" he added quickly, glancing again at the front door. The note of hysteria had quelled a bit in favor of urgency. "That way he can go back and tell his employers I'm dead. Wait a day, and my body will have been put on display in the Chapel Undercroft. You can come to me then and administer the antidote." He glanced at me nervously. "Got all that?"

"Of course," I replied shortly.

"Good! Hides-His-Heart will be here soon," his eyes moved to the door yet again. The man's paranoia was astounding and irritating, but understandable. But I could hear someone approaching the door. "Get ready," he whispered. "I do hope this works. . ."

_Of course it will. _

Hides-His-Heart pounded on the door. I drew the poisoned blade from its place on my hip. It felt unnatural in my hand, too small – I would rather use my hammer, but that wasn't possible for this contract. "Motierre!" the Argonian hissed through the door. "I know you're in there! My employers are most displeased!" A loud thunk alerted us that he was now kicking the door; a cracking sound meant he was breaking through. Two more well placed kicks, and he would gain entrance. "I'm coming in and you can beg for your life," he said with another kick, the door splitting. "Not that it will do any good!" Another kicked and the split became wide enough for the Argonian to slip through. He laughed.

As soon as I saw his entire body pass through the door and into the house, I grinned. "Motierre! I'm here to exact payment. . . in blood!" he heaved, standing at the doorway. "You will. . .eh?" Then he noticed me, standing before Motierre, dagger drawn and poised above the man's chest. The Argonian hissed. "Who's this?" he demanded.

Motierre then began to blather like a fool; an act, though it probably wasn't too hard, since he really was terrified. I couldn't listen to another word of it, his voice growing shrill again with hysteria. I slashed the dagger across his chest. The poison did it work quick, and Motierre fell almost instantly.

Hides-His-Heart snarled and lunged at me. I laughed, and ducked, slipping through the broken door and toward the city gate.

I lost Hides-His-Heart once I got out of the city, and decided to wait at the Priory. Night was falling, so I took the evening meal with the brothers, shortly after which they retired to bed. I sat alone in Jauffre's office, and looked through his books, finally picking one that looked interesting. I sat at Jauffre's desk and rested my leps on its top. I don't know how long I sat reading, because I fell asleep at some point.

I woke up some time later, late in the night, feeling a cold presence in the room. The book was resting on my face, still clutched in my hands. A low chuckled rumbled across the desk from me. _Well, this is embarrassing, _I thought, and gingerly lifted the book off my face. Lucien smirked in amusement, but otherwise said nothing, for which I was thankful.

"Speaker," I said, clearing my throat and sitting up, lowering my feet to the ground. "What are you doing here?" I was certainly surprised to see him, and so the rude inquiry was out of my mouth before I thought better of it. I then remembered Motierre's earlier remark about Lucien. I should have figured he was still nearby.

With a slight narrowing of his eyes, the Speaker deigned to ignore my impertinent question, and instead remarked, "I'm surprised to find you sleeping, vulnerable, in so . . . accessible a place." His eyes flashed around the priory, resting on the door which remained unhitched for the weary traveler that might have need for sanctuary and succor.

I flushed indignantly. "I'm not alone here," I protested in a hushed voice. "The priests sleep across the hall."

The Speaker sneered. "Priests," he scoffed.

I sucked in a breath of air to calm myself, not wanting to lash out at the Speaker in hasty anger. "Priests of Talos," I reminded him cooly. "Most of whom were Blades before they retired to serve Talos as priests. All of whom are just as capable as you or I at defending themselves and others, should they need to." I crossed my arms, a flashback of the attack from the Mythic Dawn crossing my mind.

I shook my head to clear the scene from my mind, then brushed from my forehead a gold lock that had been displaced. "I can personally attest to that," I added under my breath, looking down at the desk, and then back up to Lucien. "I'm not a fool. I'm safer here than anywhere else, and certainly safer than if I had made camp out in the open."

The Speaker held my gaze a moment and then made a brief nod, a slight smirk forming for a moment, as though I had passed some test. "Very well," was all he replied. I relaxed a bit. "Vicente was wise to save this contract for you," he observed with interest, his eyes weighing me, and then he turned. "The Black Hand will be watching you, Amara," he said, a greenish light washing over him before he became invisible.

The cold of his presence dissipated. In silence, I stared at the door as it opened and then closed with barely a creak of the hinges.


End file.
